


In the Absence of Light

by silver_fish



Series: tip jar requests [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: She flashes them all a bright smile. “It meanspassion. That's the thing everyone likes about me so much, you know!”“Well, you're more than that.” Mai rolls her eyes. “Who cares about passion? Tell me aboutCelia.”Just as quickly as she forced them up, her lips fall.
Relationships: Celia Beautina & Mai Fields
Series: tip jar requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180832
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	In the Absence of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inabsurd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabsurd/gifts).



> [twitter](https://twitter.com/laphicets) / [tumblr](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com)
> 
> thanks so much for commissioning me, bianca!! since you said you wanted to know more about her, i wrote a character study on celia (and a lil evaluation of her relationship with the others).

_Celia Beautina_.

It’s the only thing of her parents' that she still carries. They have been gone for so long, though; she doesn’t know _why_ they gave this to her, only that they did.

 _Celia Beautina_.

It means _heavenly passion_. That’s what she is. _Passion_. Her divine right, granted to her, supposedly, by Penelope long before she was born, before her parents died. Did they know? Is that why they chose this name? She will never be able to ask them; according to Mai, the living aren’t meant to commune with the dead, but she is not sure, exactly, whether Mai is really _living_ herself. That’s the strange thing about Death’s Touch: it hurts everyone except for her.

Well, that’s probably not true. Celia’s seen the way her gaze hardens when someone asks about her family, wherever they are. They’re all sure, by now, that _Fields_ isn’t really her name, but whether she borrowed it from someone—the way so many foster families would have Celia _borrow_ their names, before they forced her to give it back—or simply made it up, they’re less certain. Lance might know more than she and Scarlet do, but Celia’s never pushed him. Maybe she just wants to hear it from Mai herself.

Or maybe she just doesn’t want to hear it at all.

She doesn’t know what _Mai_ means. She doesn’t know what _Fields_ is supposed to represent. Mai’s brown eyes are closed, the depths of Death, unreachable by mere mortals such as Celia…

But they won’t be mortals forever.

Isn’t that the whole point?

It’s been a complicated few months. With nothing but Marcia’s frustratingly vague instructions guiding them to wherever Lance’s _destiny_ supposedly awaits him, they’ve been quite lost. Scarlet suggested that maybe a part of the trial is actually finding it, but Celia thinks that sort of takes the point out a _trial_ , if one doesn’t even know he’s _participating_ in it.

Besides, she said they would undergo these things alone, and, so far, they’ve all been taking turns reading the map.

Tonight, they’ve set up camp at the edge of a forest. Celia hasn’t checked the map herself in days; she doesn’t need to, because she recognizes this place without it. She grew up around here.

There are a number of towns and cities crowded into this area. The foster system is connected throughout them, shuffling children _here_ and _there_ with a promise of _forever_ with each new failed placement. Eventually, they stop moving the kids around, because they’re too old. Eventually, they stop trying, because everybody knows that these kids aren’t wanted anywhere anymore.

She doesn’t say so, though. She doesn’t point out that when she was eight years old, she probably played tag with other orphans around this forest. She doesn’t point out that her initials might be carved into one of these trees, _C.B._ , because then at least she would be permanent _somewhere_. She doesn’t point it out, because it doesn’t _matter_.

She is _Celia Beautina_. She is _Passion_. One day she will accept Penelope’s legacy as her own, and she will transcend this world, become one with the heavens. And isn’t _that_ pretty damn permanent?

It’s not, though. It can’t be, or Penelope would never have needed someone to replace her in the first place.

Scarlet stokes the fire and lets out a hefty sigh. From her other side, Lance says, “I don’t think breathing on it like that will make it burn any brighter, you know.”

“Ugh, fuck off,” Scarlet grumbles. “It’s so _cold_. Aren’t you freezing?”

Celia’s lips twitch up. “Not all of us were born in _deserts_ , Scar. This is the perfect temperature for camping! When I was a kid, this would’ve been _the_ place to be on a night like tonight.”

“It’s true,” Lance says. “Can’t even see your breath.”

“No shit,” Mai mutters. “It’s the middle of summer.”

“Not your favourite season, huh, Mai?” Celia offers her a sympathetic smile. “But you seem pretty well-adjusted. You must be from a place with weather like this, right?”

“I’ve been all over,” she says dismissively. “Why does it matter? Where I came from doesn’t mean anything when I have somewhere I’m trying to get.”

“Uh, yeah. Right.”

“Well, what about you?” Scarlet leans her stick up against the makeshift firepit and leans over to poke Celia playfully in the side. “You seem pretty _well-adjusted_ yourself, but I don’t think _you’ve_ ever mentioned where you’re from.”

Celia laughs. “It’s not _that_ interesting. I’m not the broody, mysterious one here, am I?”

“What did you just say about me?”

“ _Broody_ might be an overstatement,” Scarlet says quickly. “She’s just joking, Mai. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t _worried_ about anything.”

That’s the funny thing about Mai, though; the things she says and the way she says them never quite add up.

“Well,” Celia says, “I could tell you where I’m from, but it’s not that exciting. All you _really_ need to know is how popular I was.”

Apparently not concerned with Mai's hurt feelings anymore, Scarlet cocks her head sideways, curious “Did you have friends?"

“Huh? What do you mean? _Of course_ I had friends! Again—not the broody and mysterious one, right? Anyway, I look beautiful _and_ I have a beautiful name. Of course people loved me.”

“What’s your name have to do with anything? Not saying it _isn’t_ beautiful, but…”

Now, Mai and Lance seem a little more invested in the conversation. They exchange a short glance, though neither of them speak as they face Celia again.

“ _Beautina_ ,” she says. “Guess what it means!”

Scarlet shakes her head, looking lost. When Celia looks to Mai and Lance, they both shrug.

She flashes them all a bright smile. “It means _passion_. That's the thing everyone likes about me so much, you know!”

“Well, you're more than that.” Mai rolls her eyes. “Who cares about passion? Tell me about _Celia_.”

Just as quickly as she forced them up, her lips fall.

She recovers quickly, though, giving herself a small shake before explaining, “Celia… All right, well _that_ means _heavenly_. So, you know, it's—”

“I don’t care about what your name means,” Mai interrupts. “Names don’t matter. I already know what you are. I’m trying to figure out _who_ you are.”

Celia blinks hard. She has to admit, she kind of admires Mai. She’s boldly beautiful, confident and self-assured. She has walls, sure, but they’re not like Celia’s; hers are secure, impenetrable. Celia’s, on the other hand…

Nobody’s really _asked_ who Celia is before, though. Her name was a line on temporary custody papers. Never _permanent_. By then, they’d have done with her. “Too much work,” they’d say, or “She’s always acting out,” but what did being well-behaved ever earn her? “Too quiet,” “Too distant,” “We just can’t deal with a child who won’t engage with us.”

Her foster parents always made assumptions. Every time she would move somewhere new, her classmates would do the same thing. But she _is_ pretty. She knows how to seem like she's confident in what she’s doing and how to convince people it really _matters_. People are naturally drawn to her: the passionate ones, creatives, _romantics_ , anybody who's wanted to _feel_ something for once in their dreary lives.

The only thing her foster families ever felt was irritation, though. She never could get anything right around them. Could never be anybody’s _daughter_ , because Celia Beautina is nobody’s child.

“My parents are dead,” she finally says, words raw and painful in her throat. “They have been for a long time. But…my name. That’s their name. Nobody ever kept me long enough to have a reason to change it.”

Mai nods. “So you’re just like the rest of us. All alone.”

She swallows and averts her gaze. “Y…yeah. I am.”

“Right, well, they said it was a lonely path.” Mai’s tone is nonchalant, but when Celia lifts her head again, she won’t meet anybody’s eyes. “If you get too close to someone, they only get hurt. I thought it would be different for you, but maybe I was wrong.”

“I don’t think I was ever close enough to someone for that to happen,” Celia murmurs. “But…you’re probably right. We’re not supposed to have mortal attachments anyway, right?”

“But we do have each other,” Scarlet points out. She’s sobered throughout the course of the conversation. Now, her head is bowed, attention fixed on her fire.

Celia snorts. “Uh, yeah. Right. Because Marcia and the others get along so well, right?”

“We don’t _have_ to be like they are, though, do we?” She shudders. “Marcia freaks me out.”

Lance frowns. “And I don’t?”

“Are you kidding me?” Scarlet looks up, eyebrows drawn incredulously. “You’re like a fucking pasty white stick. You’re hardly a threat.”

He looks to Mai, as if expecting her to swoop in and save him _—_ as she so often does, Celia has to admit, though it puts a bitter taste in her mouth—but she just shrugs her shoulders again.

“I doubt there’s anything Misery can do worse than Death,” she says.

Celia opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again, stunned. In that short pause, Mai turns around to unpack her sleeping roll, apparently unbothered by the whole thing.

But Celia’s not _stupid_. She gets hiding horrible truths behind offhand remarks, smiles and jokes… Not that Mai jokes or smiles much, mind, but—well, it’s sort of the same thing, isn’t it?

Scarlet sighs again. Lance doesn’t say anything this time as she pokes at the fire.

“I guess it is getting pretty late. You guys go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll stay up first.”

Celia throws a trembling smile her way. “My _hero_. Good night, Scarlet!”

But when Scarlet meets her gaze, there is something sorrowful there, deeply—sadly—blue.

She is quick to look away, heart lodged uncomfortably in her throat. Nobody says anything. She supposes they don't really need to. As she lies down, it is Mai's words crowding her head anyway, again and again and again _—_ _Tell me about_ Celia.

 _Celia Beautina_.

It means _heavenly passion_ , the thing she is _destined_ to be.

But she isn’t always sure who, exactly, Celia is. And whenever she thinks she _does_ …

Well, sometimes she can't help wishing she was somebody else.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! xx
> 
> if you're interested in learning more about my original works and characters, i post a lot about them on twitter [@laphicets](https://twitter.com/laphicets) and tumblr [@kohakhearts](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com)! feel free to find me for general writing updates too; i also sometimes take fic requests on both platforms!


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